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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006887">Lobelia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UponPaleWings/pseuds/UponPaleWings'>UponPaleWings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sleep deprived works and poems [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mentions of Violence, War Setting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UponPaleWings/pseuds/UponPaleWings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To invade is to desecrate, and perhaps the alter by which men unknowingly spit upon is the land itself, who's gods are only forsaken to the armies below them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sleep deprived works and poems [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lobelia</h2></a>
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    <p>      The sky was bleak and grey, heavy roiling clouds blocking out the sunlight and promising heavy rain. Thunder in the distance sang in harmony with faint flashing lightning lighting up far away down-pours, chasing human and creature alike into their burrows. An army camp below was already in disarray, packing up dry supplies and running to secure loose ropes and tent flaps that rocked in the steadily increasing wind. Generals at the war table stopped their planning to watch the approaching storm in awe, as phenomenon like this were rare in their dry homeland. Drawing nearer to the encampment, the faint thunder in the distance became deep rolling growls that captain and soldier alike felt shake their bones. Playful flashes of lightning turned into dangerous cracks of voltage, blasting tall trees of their bark and coming closer each strike. The previously dreary grey sky was now crowded with sinister black clouds, masking the midday sky in an alien twilight beauty. Howling wind cut through the boughs like an icy knife, flinging empty crates around the camp and carrying the cloying scent of rain and ozone to the few still not sheltered by flimsy tents.</p><p>      Suddenly, as if a divine hand had held back nature, all went quiet; the thunder, lightning and wind stilling. If one looked out and watched those few moments of silence, they would have seen the wild maw of nature opening to devour all that stood in its path. In that moment, the brutality of this savage beast made itself quietly and ferociously known.</p><p>      All at once the heralds of the storm returned, pounding at tent canvas with reckless abandon and bringing the storm to fruition. Sleet and icy rain were like swords falling in battle, no mercy shown to the mortals below them. Deadly hail fell sideways so strong was the wind that drove it. Sliced open from the forces above, tents snapped in strong gales where they were still nailed to the ground, rain soaking the soldiers they once protected. Those who were struck down with unforgiving projectiles lay unresponsive in the mud, head wounds and lacerations leaking blood into puddles of dirty water. Chaos reigned supreme in the camp when horses, terrified by the unfamiliar monster they faced, bolted from their stables with deep thunder spurring them on into dangerous woods. The army in disarray and the storm just beginning, more casualties occurred than from previous enemy ambushes. Panicked soldiers ran from destroyed shelters, only contributing to the losses of comrades when the ice struck them down as well. Looking out on the once orderly camp, a terrified lieutenant whispered a soft prayer to his gods for mercy, for surely the spirits of this land had been greatly angered to create the hell he witnessed.</p><p>His prayers remained unanswered.</p><p>      Out of an invading force of 50,000 men, 5000 did not survive that night. Cutting hail killed three thousand in the panic of the storm, and a further thousand were lost to the depths of a flooding river nearby in the darkness. The remaining thousand dead were quickly finished by hypothermia and sickness, their warm desert homeland making their bodies vulnerable to the harsh cold of the storm. Counting the losses of his men, the commander of the army was incredulous by the simple ferocity the lands he invaded could produce, but still ordered a forward march. Determined to reap the rewards of this savage country he disregarded his war council’s pleading for retreat and their predictions of new storms, for surely his army could weather them better the next time.</p><p>      The folly of man would be his downfall, and the strange gods in this strange land watched him and laughed, looking down as the hubris of one brought about the deaths of many.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Second week, second story! This is an earlier one that I jotted down in my free time a year or so ago, so it might not flow as smoothly as the first one I posted. Comment and review please!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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